The Phoenix amongst Wolves
by angel-winged0130
Summary: She was the daughter of a lesser lord, born just south of the Wall, she now lives with the Starks of Winterfell as their ward. Follow the life of Ryssa Manalis, 'the Lady Phoenix', as she struggles to protect her new family and keep her head in the game of thrones. Possible Robb/OC or Jon/OC. Rated T to be safe, may change later on. Overused storyline but give it a shot.
1. Chapter 1

The feel of sunrays in her eyes woke Ryssa that morning, just like it did every morning since she came to Winterfell. Not that she minded it much; it was her habit to wake with the sun. Her chamber, just like the one she had back home in Forgehammer, was on the East side of the keep meaning she was one of the first to feel the light every day. Having a beautiful view of the surrounding woodlands only brought more to the room's appeal.

Stretching herself like a cat, she rose from her bed to start her morning routine. Pouring some fresh water into a basin, she washed her face, the cold water rousing her from the grogginess of sleep than anything ever could. From the chest that lay at the foot of her bed, she took her usual garments; dark brown leather breeches, black leather boots and a deep red tight long-sleeved dress that reached mid-calf. The skirt of the dress was made to look like it was cut into shreds at one point in its past despite being made like that deliberately so it would allow maximum movement freedom to its wearer. It was perfect for running, riding, hunting, sword fighting and much more while it still gave the appeal of a lady's dress. Along the high collar and the ends of the sleeves was elaborate embroidery of fire turning into flame colored feathers. Ryssa had her mother to thank for the beauty of the dress, it was a gift for her sixteenth nameday and from that day on she was rarely seen not wearing it.

Fastening a small brown leather belt around her waist, Ryssa sat at her vanity brushing her thick waist long mane of blood red hair, later continuing to braid it in elaborate fashion which kept most of it out of her face but still allowed her diagonally cut bangs to fall on her face. Though it seemed very simple, at better look it showed many tiny braids woven tightly together along her scalp in spiral pattern. This was a hairstyle she usually wore ever since she was a little girl making her very much used to the harsh pull the braids made. Unless one was used to them they would get splitting headaches for the next two days after wearing their hair like this for only a few hours.

By the time she was finished most of Winterfell was already bustling with life so she decided to make her way to the kitchens to break her fast. A little bread and cheese would be more than enough to keep her satisfied until lunch. On her way down a small smile wove itself on her face as she saw none of the servants in the keep stop their work to bow to her. It was something that really bothered her in the first few weeks she was staying here. She saw herself as no lady so she saw no need for others to treat her like one.

The reason why she never saw herself as a lady was because, by her family's tradition, every child had to earn its position in society and she had not yet proven her worth to her father. Despite being at the age of seventeen, she hadn't done anything worth mentioning while her older brother had already done some things to further better the lives of her people in the small space of two years. Then again, he had always been better at diplomacy than she. That was the reason she'd asked her lord father to send her to Winterfell as a ward for the Starks. She thought that, maybe, she will do something great under their wing and finally earn the tittle of lady she had always dreamed of having. To be as elegant and gentle, yet fierce, like her mother was her dream.

Every day was the same to Ryssa; she would first attend sewing lessons before lunch with Sansa and Arya, after lunch she would spend some time in the library and later help the smith in the forge or perfect her skills with some of Lord Stark's sons. Then, go to dinner and to sleep. And the same thing the next day.

With a tired sigh, Ryssa slowly dragged her legs to her sewing lessons. She never really liked sewing, purely because she was no good at it. She very well knew how to make clothes and mend them when needed. Making embroideries, however, was a whole another thing. Her hands were too clumsy when holding a needle and she never possessed an eye for fine detail like Sansa and her mother did. Even her trouble making younger twin sisters, who were only six years old, were much better at making embroideries than her. Ryssa has always been far more comfortable holding a blade, bow or even a forging hammer.

The silence that usually ensued during their sewing lessons was almost maddening to Ryssa. She was raised in a large family. People said the Starks had many children since there were six, but her father had nine; Ryssa and her eight siblings. Ryssa had three sisters and five brothers; she was second oldest to her brother, Therenger, and the oldest daughter. There were also her aunt and uncle and their four children, not to mention all the servants and their children who also lived in the Keep with her family. Noise was an almost mandatory part of the day; there was always running, shouting, screaming etc. Even sewing lessons were filled with the sound of careless gossiping and laughter of the younger girls. The silence the Stark's septa insisted on was pure madness for Ryssa. There was only so long she was able to endure it before she would simply start talking, regardless of the septa's warnings, or simply leave while leaving her half finished work on the stool she was forced to sit on. Not like she would've had the patience to actually finish it.

She was sitting on the stool nearest to the window carefully sewing a bluebird on the white handkerchief while occasionally stealing fleeting glances of the outside world when she was sure the septa wasn't looking at her. It was slowly snowing, the tiny white crystals floating on the cold breeze, some landing on the window glass before being melted away by the warmth of the hearth thet made the glass warm enough to do so. Ryssa wanted to be outside, to feel the snowflakes in her hair and on her fingertips, enjoy the caress of the cold wind. She was from just south of the wall so no matter how cold it got in Winterfell she would barely feel it. Ever since she came, her heavy fur cloak has been tucked away in her trunk since it was too warm for her to wear here. She rather wore her lighter forest green woolen cloak.

For the umpteenth time that day, Ryssa pricked her finger on the needle due to her lack of attention. A small hiss almost escaped her plump lips but she managed to hold it in. The last thing she wanted at the moment was for the septa to pay her attention and see just how much she was slacking. She cast a small glance at the Stark sisters; Sansa was threading her work with a look of utmost concentration in her blue Tully eyes, while Arya was nowhere to be seen. The little wolf had probably managed to slip away from the lessons some time ago and was running about somewhere, enjoying her freedom. Ryssa was somewhat jealous of the little girl for having such freedom but also sad for her because she knew that all that freedom would soon be gone; Arya will be betrothed to a lord or a knight, later on married to him, and the little half-wild grinning she-wolf will be forced to become a meek and obedient woman. Ryssa was only grateful that her father forbade for any marriage offers to be made for his children until they have celebrated their twenty first nameday. Therenger had only turned twenty-one a few short months ago and Ryssa was sure that he would soon be on the search of a perfect woman to his life companion while she wanted to never marry and spend all her life traveling the world and broadening her horizons. She had even sworn to herself that she would never let herself to fall in love, ever.

Feeling her last shred of patience snap, she rose form her stool and went for the door. ''Please, excuse me but I think I shall go get some fresh air.'' Without waiting for a reply she was already halfway out in the courtyard breathing the cold air with full lungs, a large smile spread on her face. Now, this was the way she wanted to spend her days; underneath the endless sky, feeling the wind in her hair and on her skin. It was paradise for her.

''I see you've managed to escape once more from your lessons,'' said a familiar voice behind her. She turned to find Jon Snow, Lord Stark's bastard son, watching her with a smirk on his face.

''I have no idea what you're talking about Jon,'' she said, feigning innocence.

He scoffed,''Oh, please! I know you better than you believe I do and I know with certainty that you've escaped.'' It was a completely normal occurrence for her to run, if only to save herself from being driven to madness by boredom.

''Alright, so maybe I DID run away,'' she admitted ''But it was only for the sake of my fragile mind,'' she added with an overly dramatic tone.

''Yes, I can tell,'' he said sarcastically.

''You wound my heart, Jon Snow.'' She put a dramatic hand over her heart. He looked at her with a rare grin.

''I didn't know you even had one.''

She mock-gasped. ''Now, that is just cruel!'' She burst into a laugh, him following soon after. It took them a few minutes to get their bearings together, but once they calmed down she said to him: ''I was on my way to ask you if you, Robb and Theon needed any help with today's archery lesson. You know I am second only to my sister, but then again, she _is _the one able to _split_ an arrow within only ten seconds of firing it, so I thought of maybe correcting the mistakes you boys might miss.''

...

They were at it for the last twenty minutes and Bran was still to hit within the target. It was honestly bugging the hell out of her since she could see the mistakes in his posture and the way he held the bow as clear as day but Robb didn't let her correct them. 'Curse the stubbornness of men,' she thought as she sat on top of a barrel beneath a small balcony that overlooked the archery range. If it were only she and Jon helping Bran today, then he would have definitely allowed her to correct Bran's stance. The only problem was that Lady Stark didn't allow for Jon to be alone with her children without supervision, with Robb and being the only exception.

Often did it bother Ryssa how Lady Stark treated Jon. It was no his fault for being born a bastard, those things happen even to the most honorable of lords and especially so in the time of war. If anything, Lord Stark taking Jon in and raising him as his own just showed that the man was honorable enough to take responsibility for his actions. The founder of her own house was a bastard himself, so she was taught to be respectful of all people, trueborn or bastard.

After Bran, once more, missed the target completely, Robb silently snickered while Jon leaned down to whisper something to the boy's ear making them both look over their shoulders at whoever was on the balcony over her head. By the look in Bran's eyes she presumed Lord Stark has come to see his son's progress but a tiny flicker of discomfort in Jon's eyes told her Lady Stark was most likely there as well. Bran gave a small nod and turned back to the target. Just from the way his arms stressed the bow too much, she knew he was going to miss by a long shot. And, true to word, his arm went off course and the arrow flew over the target and into the trees to what both Jon and Robb started laughing. Even little Rickon was laughing in the backgroungd.

''And which one of you was a marksman at ten?'' That efficiently shut them all up ,making Ryssa stand up from her seat and walk into Lord Stark's line of sight by stopping next to Bran with a bow and arrow ready in her hands.

With a smile she said, ''I was.'' Lord Stark offered her a small smile and a nod of acknowledgment before turning his eyes back to Bran.

''Keep practicing Bran.''

Ryssa kneeled next to him to be more at his eye level. ''Here pup; just watch what I'm doing.'' She executed all the movement while she described them to him. ''Now, you don't push the bow with your bow arm, just keep it relaxed. Focus on the target in front of you; don't think too much. If you do, the arrow my change its mind. Keep your elbow high, but not too much. Use your back and stomach muscles as much as those in your arms. Use your mouth as a guide and...'' The arrow hit dead center. ''You can make a hit like that almost every single time.'' She turned to the boy, ''Think you got it?'' He nodded and she smiled encouragingly. ''Now try it yourself.''

''Go on,'' Lord stark said from the balcony.

Ryssa stood up and moved a few steps away to give Bran some room. Jon and Robb giving him advice as he aimed, now making the same observations she did just moments earlier. She could see that this time he would surely hit the target, if not the center itself but before he could release the arrow, another flew by them and hit the bullseye. They all turned to see Arya with a bow and a mocking smile before she made a mock-curtsey and Bran chased after her Robb yelling, 'Bran, faster!' after his brother.

...

Sitting by the fireplace later that evening, Ryssa couldn't help but to be reminded of the times when she was a little younger. She and her siblings, no matter how old they got, enjoyed listening to their father's stories both true ones and those he made up at the spot and the songs her mother used to invent to help better create the atmosphere of the story. One story popped in her mind suddenly and made her smile widely as she hummed the melody of a song her mother had played and sung for them as their father told them the story. A small pull at the hem of her dress broke her from her daze and she found Rickon looking up at her with his large Tully blue eyes.

''What's that song you're singing? Are you going to sing it to us?'' he asks with so much innocence that she can't help but smile at the buy.

''It's a song my mother used to sing to me and my brothers and sisters when my father told us a certain story. It just popped into my mind and I couldn't help but sing. If you can wait, I will sing it to you once your father and brother's return, deal?''

The boy smiled and shook her outstretched hand. ''Deal!''

Earlier that day, after Bran chased off Arya during his archery practice, Lord Stark received news of a deserter from the Wall being caught not far from Winterfell. He took Robb, Theon, Jon and Bran with him to the execution despite Lady Stark's protests of Bran being too young to such a sight at the age of ten.

She wanted to scoff at that, Ryssa was seven when she had witnessed her first execution and her brother, Therenger, was even younger when he had witnessed his own. It was a sight children of the North just had to get used to in order to steel themselves for the harsh winter to come.

During the day, she changed from her usual red dress, boots and breeches and was now wearing a beautiful deep red dress that covered most of her skin, leaving only her head and hands visible, with its high neckline and tight silver blue under sleeves underneath the widening red ones. An abstract pattern of vines the hemline of the skirt and sleeves coming up to just above her knees and elbows, black slippers adorned her feet and a black belt accentuated her small waist. Her blood red hair was completely loose and fell down her back in gentle waves while her black exes were given a slight golden glow from the fire blazing in the fireplace, the light showing her eyes to be a dark green as opposed to them seeming black.

Only half an hour has passed from Rickon and Ryssa's deal when Lord Stark and the boys returned and entered the room. Ryssa spotted small bundles of fur in the boys' arms. It took her only a few seconds to recognize them for what they really are. A smile broke on her face as she said, '' Are those direwolves, Lord Stark?''

They all gave her slightly confused looks. ''How did you know they were direwolves?'' Lord Stark asked her.

''I've seen many direwolves growing up, my lord. There aren't many south of the Wall, but there is a small pack living in the Godswood at Forgehammer,'' she explained as she approached Jon and plucked a pure white pup with red eyes from his arms. The pup didn't make a sound but rather looked at her with intelligent eyes and licked her cheek affectionately making her smile at the small creature and scratch it behind its ears. ''My sibling and I grew up with them and I must say that they are very loyal and loving.''

After her explanation, Lord Stark told the story of how they found the pups and that eacho of the Stark children was to take care of one. Soon enough, names were given to the pups and they were either playing with each other or with their respective owners as Lord and Lady Stark overlooked their children with fond smiles. Jon was sitting next to the fire with Ryssa, his pup 'Ghost' still in Ryssa's arms, and telling her of the execution when Rickon suddenly spoke causing all attention to go to Ryssa.

''Ryssa, you promised me you would sing that song when Father came back home! Please sing.''

''I'm so sorry, pup. I completely forgot about it, will you forgive me?'' she asked him with puppy eyes.

''Only if you sing,'' he said making everyone laugh.

She answered, ''Whisecrack. Alright, I'll sing,'' when everyone supported Rickon's suggestion.

_Tell everybody I'm on my way,  
New friends and new places ti see.  
With blue skies ahead, yes I'm on my way  
And there's nowhere else that I'd rather be._

_Tell everybody I'm on my way  
And that I'm loving every step I take.  
With the sun beating down, yes I'm on my way  
And I can't keep this smile off my face._

_'Cause there's nothing like seeing each other again,  
No matter what the distance between.  
And the stories that we tell will make you smile,  
Oh it really lifts my heart._

_So tell 'em all I'm on my way now,  
New friends and new places to see.  
And to sleep under the stars and who could ask for more,  
With the moon keeping watch over me._

_Not the snow, not the rain can change my mind,  
The sun will come out, wait and see.  
And the feeling of the wind in your face can lift your heart  
Or there's nowhere I would rather be_

_'Cause I'm on my way now,  
Well and true, I'm on my way now._

_I'm on my way now,  
I'm on my way now,  
I'm on my way now..._

_Tell everybody I'm on my way,  
I just can't wait to be there.  
With the blue skies ahead, yes I'm on my way  
And nothing but good times to share._

_So, tell everybody I'm on my way  
And I just can't wait to be home.  
With the sun beating down, yes I'm on my way  
And nothing but good times to show._

_I'm on my way,  
Yes, I'm on my way..._

_**AN: This is my second fanfic I'm publishing and probably the longest chapter I've written. In the second one we learn a bit more about Ryssa's siblings and we see her reaction to Robert and his family.**_

_**For those wondering, Ryssa is the second oldest child and oldest daughter of Lord Rafario Manalis. She has eight siblings, five brothers and three sisters. She is seventeen and has been living as a ward of Stark's for the last year or so after requesting it from her father.**_

_**Her family's sigil is a flying red Phoenix on a sliver blue field. They live in the mountains and plains just south of Shadow Tower, the western most castle along the Wall and are known for often venturing north of the Wall. They are also known as the best blacksmiths and soldiers of Westeros, even though they rarely fight in wars since there aren't many of them. Their lands are called the Ashlands due to the color of the ground and their castle is called Forgehammer, aka. The White Keep due to the color of the stone with which it was made, and it contains the largest forge in Westeros.**_

_**Ryssa, like most of her siblings, is an excelent fighter since she was raised to be a soldier from an early age so she is very skilled with a bow and sword, but her primary weapon are twin sai like daggers she made herself.**_

_**Anyhow, I hope you like what I've come up with and leave me some feedback down in the reviews. ;)**__  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Ryssa was walking through the courtyard when, passing the stables, she spotted Bran's direwolf pup sitting patiently and watching the rooftops. She smiled and approached the pup bending down to scratch it behind its ears. The animal leaned into her touch but its golden eyes stayed trained on the roof.

''Bran's up at it again, isn't he?'' The pup looked her in the eye over its shoulder and brought its gaze back to its previous destination. ''Well, let's hope his mother doesn't see him.''

And true to word, she saw Bran hopping his way over the roofs and coming down just as Lady Stark came into view with maester Luwin. 'Somebody's in trouble,' she thought and stalked back inside with a smile. In the background she could hear Lady Stark making Bran promise not to climb anymore. 'Like that would ever stop the young pup'.

...

She stood in a line with her siblings behind Theon and Jon, who stood behind Lord Stark and his family. They were waiting for the king and his escort to arrive. It was a public secret that the reason for the royal family's visit was so that the king could ask Lord Stark to become the Hand after the untimely death of Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale.

It mattered little to Ryssa, she was only too happy for her siblings visiting her. She was ecstatic when she had received the letter her father sent her, a few days prior to their arrival, telling her how much they missed her and were on their way to pay her a visit and see how she was adapting to the life in the much-warmer-than-home Winterfell. The biggest surprise was when they all arrived and she was presented with a gift by Therenger; a Phoenix egg which was hatched within an hour.

The Phoenix was beautiful, with a long elegant neck, regal bearing, luscious long tail and the eyes the color of molten gold. She named the bird 'Aidan', and it was currently perched on her left shoulder, playing with strands of her blood red hair.

The Manalis children, all lined up, were dressed in their best clothes in their families respective colors; blood red and silvery blue. The boys wore red while the girls wore blue even if Ryssa insisted upon wearing red she was ignored. Nothing new there.

The last few days, for Ryssa, were spent catching up with her siblings. The only one who wasn't able to come was Tryshyon who was only four years old so their parents wouldn't let him make the week-long trip from Forgehammer to Winterfell. It was extremely funny to her and her sisters how most young girls at Winterfell immediately started swooning at the sight of her older brother, Therenger. She didn't blame them, though. All too well she was aware of the fact that beauty ran in their families blood, Rare was the occurrence of an unattractive Manalis being born.

Therenger was a tall, broad man on Twenty-one with curly black hair that fell just below his ears, a light beard and the eyes the color of lightest silver. His features, like with most Manalis', were sharp and elongated with slightly tilted almond shaped eyes. There was a small scar just below his right eye that he's had for about ten years; an accident that happened during one of their spar matches when she managed to nick his skin with the point of her dagger. His effect on women was even bigger thanks to his natural charisma and overall friendly demeanor. When someone spoke to him it seemed like there was no chance in this world that this young man would be able to kill a man twice his size using only his bare hands. Even now as he stood no more than half a foot from Ryssa, he exulted power and authority.

To her right stood her younger sister, Niantine. As a young girl of fifteen, Niantine was the true lady amongst the four sisters with her perfect manners and the ability to charm almost anyone. Like all Manalis women, she too had a very feminine face with full pink lips and a small button nose. Her luscious dark brown hair fell in gentle waves as some carefully arranged strands framed her chocolate eyes and her dress was the epitome of femininity, the silver blue fabric hugging the girls figure just right. Looking at the composed young girl, you couldn't even imagine her riding horses and shooting arrows with almost inhuman accuracy.

Next were the thirteen year old twin boys, Rafaem and Ranald; tall and slim with the most surprising coloring one would think a Northerner would have. With their identical messy white hair and mischievous brown eyes, the only way to differentiate them was according their outfits; Ranald usually wore darker shades than Rafaem.

The ten year old Baessrad was the only child, aside Ryssa herself, to inherit their father's red hair but he still had the icy blue eyes of their mother. Often he was found with at least one of his younger twin sisters, the six year old Mientyha and Yiehdel. The crazy trio was on darker days the only source of laughter in the Keep. Both girly were blessed with hair as black as night and intense violet eyes.

Since they all had names which were somewhat a mouthfull to pronounce, when they were younger they came up with nicknames that they still used. Therenger was called 'Ren', Ryssa was 'Ro', Niantine was 'Nia', Rafaem was 'Raf', Ranald was 'Rin' (though no one knew really why), Baessrad was 'Bo', Mienthya was 'Tika' or 'Tya', Yiehdel was 'Della and young Tryshyon was 'Ty'.

The only person, she noticed, who was missing was Arya. Knowing the young she-wolf, she was somewhere in the town stealing looks of the King and his company. She could see Lady Stark searching for her daughter with her eyes and heard her asking Sansa where her sister was ti which the girl just shrugged. Soon enough, the girl appeared running towards them to stand in line with a helmet on her head. Ryssa couldn't stop the tiny chuckle from escaping her lips at the sight and, from the corner of her eye, she saw Trerenger slightly shaking with laughter as well as Niantine.

Lord Stark grabbed Arya's arm, stopping her in her path and took off the helmet from her head. ''Hey, hey, hey, hey, what are you doing with that on?'' The girl's slightly startled look was enough to make Ryssa smirk. ''Go on.''

Arya came to her place in the line and with a rude 'Move!' to Bran made him make room for her as Lord Stark handed the helmet she was wearing to Ser Rodrik.

Now all the 'children' stood together in a line as visitors poured through the gates in a river of gold and silver and steel. If Ryssa was to guess, she would say there were around three hundred of them, finest bannermer, sworn swords, knights and freeriders of the South. In her opinion, there were no finer ones that those that could be found in the cold hard North. Over their heads golden banners with a crowned stag whipped in the cold wind.

From the stories and books, she was able to recognize some of the king's escort. There was Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer as many called him behind his back, easily recognized for his golden hair and white cloak of the members of the Kingsguard. She could also see Sandor Clegane, the Hound, with his terribly burned face and the snobby looking blonde boy next to him could only be the crown prince Joffrey. She could alredy see the glances he and Sansa were exchanging and, from the look on Robb's face, so could he. At the head of the column, flanked by two members of the Kingsguard, was no other than King Robert himself who seemed more like a fat drunkard than a king, if you asked Ryssa.

All bowed and kneeled while the Manalis sisters all dropped into deep curtseys as the King dismounted his horse. Without a word he approached Lord Stark and discretely gestured him to rise to his feet. As he did, so did the rest of the people.

''Your Grace,'' Lord Stark bowed his head in a greeting and the King just observed him for a moment or two until...

''You've gone fat,'' the deadpan delivery made everyone freeze and Ryssa almost burst out laughing at everyone's faces. For a second there was a deafening silence but then both the King and Lord Stark started laughing and hugged each other.

It was heartwarming to see the two old friends reunited. According to Ryssa's father, the two have not seen each other since the Greyjoy rebellion, eleven years ago. She still remembered the stories her father told her about the battles and she was surprised to see that the man her father described in them looked very little like the man who stood in front of her now. That man, though very tall, was also very wide, with a thick coarse black beard, dark circles under his blue eyes and a clinging smell of perfume so strong it traveled even to her and stung her nostrils.

''Nine years,'' the King started, ''I have not seen you. Where the hell have you been?''

''Guarding the North for you,'' Lord Stark said, '' Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.''

In the background, the Queen exited her wheelhouse all regally dressed in pinks and gold's with a fur wrap around her neck. She truly was beautiful with her fair skin, golden hair, emerald eyes and high cheekbones, but there was something in her that rubbed Ryssa the wrong way, something dark and twisted. She felt it when she looked at the crown prince as well. All she knew was not to trust anything these people said.

''Where's the Imp?'' Arya's question broke her gaze from the Queen and she looked around noticing that, truly, the youngest of the Lannister siblings was missing. At Sansa's remark to shut up, Ryssa frowned. The girl was only curious; there was no harm in that, so there was no need to be rude to her. She was well aware that the sisters were as different in personalities as day and night but so were Ryssa and Niantine and they were never so rude or mean to one another. When Sansa, once more, told Arya to shut up, as the latter started talking about the Kingslayer, Ryssa just let out an exasperated sigh making Therenger look at her with a look that asked her if she was feeling alright.

Slightly shaking her head she told him as she gestured towards the Stark girls, ''They aren't aware how much they might actually need each other when perilous times come but rather spend their time resenting each other.'' Her brother nodded, showing her that he too has noticed this.

Both Lord and Lady Stark bowed to the Queen and Lord Stark kissed her hand when she approached them. The passive look on her face turned sour when the King asked to be taken to the Stark family crypt. She tried to talk him out of it by pointing out that they've been riding for almost a month and that the dead won't be getting away any soon but he wouldn't listen and wordlessly went there anyway. Lord Stark offered her an apologetic look before following after the King leaving everyone in an akward silence which was broken by Arya.

''Where's the Imp?''

''Where _is _our brother?'' the Queen asked her brother, the Kingslayer. ''Go and find him before the feast.''

**AN: First of all, I'd like to thank all you guys who gave this story a chance and Faved or Follow it. It really made my day and brought me in the mood to bring you this new chapter faster that I thought I could write.  
Second of all, this regards the pairing of the story. The next chapter is the last chapter that doesn't have the beginnings of one of the pairings. I already made a rough plan of three possible storylines, one for a Robb/OC pairing, one for Jon/OC and one with no pairing at all. This is an OC centric story which has two POVs, one of which is Ryssa as you can all see, while the other one is supposed to periodically show up later on in the story. I'll be making a poll to see what option seems like the one you would want this story to go for. The poll will be open for about a month during which time I will be working on the fourth chapter for each of the storylines so that I can give you a new upload within the 24 hours after closing it. For those who are having problems with the names of my OCs, I'll be posting the way the names are pronounced in the next chapter. Also, leave me some feedback in the reviews, it keeps me writing, and I hope that you've enjoyed the second chapter. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you guys for faving and following this story, it means the world to me. Like I've already said in the previous chapter, this is the last chapter without any of the pairings and I won't be updating this story until I've closed the poll on my profile, so if there's someone you'd like Ryssa to be paired up with, I recommend you vote for them on the poll. Hope you'll like this chapter and leave me some feedback in the reviews. I apologize for any grammar or spelling errors in advance since I have no beta and barely have the time to skim what I've written after I wrote it. ;)**

The better part of the afternoon was spent getting ready for the feast that was to ensue for the King's visit. Ryssa wondered if the king had already asked Lord Stark to become his Hand and, if Lord Stark accepted, what consequences it would have for her. She was aware that in that case Lord Stark would take his daughters along with him and she was supposed to learn the ways of a lady with the girls so it would probably mean she would have to come to King's Landing. She would have to go South where it is so much warmer than in Winterfell. She felt sick just by thinking of it.

Her brothers were all in Therenger's chambers getting ready while her sisters were in her chambers. They were all giddily chattering about, doing each other's hairs, helping getting them into their dresses and applying make-up. Each of the Manalis sisters was already dressed in some of their best dresses.

Ryssa was sitting on the edge of her bed doing Mienthya's hair. She was altering between running a thick brush through her thick wild black curls and braiding them in places to get a similar hairstyle to the one she wore on most days. At her vanity Nientine was putting final touches of her make up before she sat Yiehdel down on the chair in front of it and started braiding her hair in tiny braids she would later neatly arrange on the girl's scalp.

Minethya wore a dress made of dark purple winter's silk which gradually faded into a light lavender towards the ends of the butterfly sleeves and the skirt' hemline, which ended just above her ankles. There was even beautiful detailed embroidery of lavender butterfly wings over the back. Yiehdel wore the same dress, only in reverse shades and both girls wore small black leather boots trimmed with white fur. The colours of the dresses brought attention to the violet of the girls' eyes that already stood out with their pale skin and black hair.

Nientine was dressed in a gown of palest silver with the same high neckline and butterfly sleeves that shifted into an ink black. A reverse colored belt held the dress at her narrow waist while a complex pattern of embroidered snowflakes went along the sleeve and skirt hemline. Tiny black slippers adorned her feet like they did Ryssa's.

Both of the older sisters had their eyes lined with kohl and shadowed with black so they had a smoky effect to them while Ryssa wore the same gown she wore when the Stark children were presented with their direwolves. Her red hair was carefully braided into complex six-strand braids crisscrossing down the length of the rest it, which flowed freely down her back in soft waves.

...

The sisters met up with their brothers at the entrance to the Great Hall where the feast was being held. They too had changed into their best clothes butt, as usual, spent no time on their hair leaving it wild as they were.

They were seated together with the Starks and the royal family during the feast. Ryssa, Minethya and Yiehdel spent the better part of it laughing their hides off at the way the boy twins wolfed down their food, only to practically lick their plates clean and dig in for more, four or five times. Given how skinny both of the boys were, one had to ask themselves where all that food had gone to. Nientine only offered a tiny smile and a shake of her head before returning to her own meal and conversation she was leading with Sansa. The conversation, Ryssa strongly suspected involved embroidery, fashion and gossips.

It was only after the meal had finished and the minstrels were brought in that the real fun began, in Ryssa's opinion. If there was one thing she and her siblings shared, besides their love for stories and weapons, it was their love for music.

Throughout history, all the Manalis children were bred and trained; from the moment they could walk, to use almost any weapon and the art of music. They were all able to play at least one instrument and/or dance as easily as they could breathe.

As the music flowed into the ears of all in the room, many people, including the King, rose to their feet to dance. Ryssa couldn't help but tap her feet to the rhythm of the song they were playing, feeling a sudden strong urge to get up and dance. By the faces of her sisters and brothers, they were feeling the same urge. One look was enough to bring them all to their feet and for the music to take them away.

...

Ryssa breathed in the cold air with a smile, letting it cool her from the heat of the hall. It was fun to dance and reconnect with her siblings, but the heat that had built up inside was starting to make her queasy and she remembered that the hall in Winterfell was quite a bit smaller than the one beck home.

She could feel the light sheen of sweat, which had built up on her skin, sticking strands of her hair to her face and the way her dress had started to cling to her fair skin. Ryssa didn't fear catching a cold from the cool air, she was never sick back home as a child and the temperatures there were much lower than here. She was also kept warm by Aidan's presence on her shoulder; the young bird spread warmth like a furnace.

The sound of a blade hitting straw attracted her attention. When she approached it she saw Jon wildly hacking away at a straw dummy.

''Whoa, I do not know what he did, but I do not want to be in his shoes, err... straw right now,'' she joked, Aidan screeched in confirmation. When he turned to her she continued, ''Your uncle told you something you didn't like, hasn't he?''

A confused look crossed his face. ''How did you know I spoke with my uncle?''

''Easy really. I just came outside and I haven't seen him for the last couple of minutes so I assumed he was with you. But anyways, what was it he told you that's got you so riled up?''

With a huff he put his sword away and retold her of his conversation with his uncle while pacing throughout his explanation. Ryssa couldn't say she was surprised of his decision to join the Night's Watch; she was surprised he wanted to leave for the Wall so soon. She assumed he would stay in Winterfell a few more years before taking the black. Was he even aware of how much he would miss if he left now? There were still so many things they were all to learn; she, Jon and Robb, not to mention the rest of the Stark pack.

''Look Jon,'' she started, ''I respect your decision to join the Black Brothers, I really do, but I think you're getting ahead of yourself with wishing to leave now. There are still so many things to learn and so much more to see.''

''You don't understand, none of you do!'' His tone took her a little by surprise. In the year she lived here, she had never heard him raise his voice at anyone, no matter how angry or frustrated he was. ''It is the only way for me to make something of my life.''

''Your uncle's in the Night's Watch,'' a voice in the shadows cut her off before she could answer. Both she and Jon turned to see the person who spoke. There was a small shadow, no bigger than a child's, with a slightly oversized head. The person stepped out of the shadows to reveal a dwarf with curly golden hair and one green and one black eye. This was the Queen's youngest brother, Tyrion Lannister, the Imp.

''What are you doing back there?'' Jon asked the half-man as he approached them.

''Preparing for a night with your family,'' he said. Ryssa noticed he had a wineskin in his skin and could smell the faint odour of wine from him, no doubt was the man already half drunk. He took a swing for the wineskin and leaned on a wooden post. ''I've always wanted to see the Wall.''

Jon gave him a measuring look before coming to the same conclusion as Ryssa had a few seconds ago. ''You're Tyrion Lannister. The Queen's brother?'' The last sentence sounded more like a question that a statement.

''My greatest accomplishment,'' the little lord said with his head bowed down as if in shame before lifting it up to look them both in the eye. ''You're Lady Manalis, Ned Stark's ward, am I correct?'' he said to Ryssa.

Ryssa offered a small smile. ''Only Ryssa, my lord, for I'm afraid I am no lady.''

''You _are_ the oldest daughter of Lord Rafario Manalis of Forgehammer and the Ashlands, the one who is called 'The Blademaster'?''

''The one and only, my lord,'' she said with a small nod which sent some strands of her red hair falling over her shoulders and covering parts of her face.

Tyrion was still confused by her answers. ''If you are Lord Manalis' daughter then why are you not a lady?''

''In my family's tradition, one must earn their title of Lord or Lady, and I have not yet proven my worth so I am not a lady.'' She reached up to pet Aidan who was still perched on her shoulder making Tyrion notice the magical bird for the first time.

''Is that a Phoenix on your shoulder?'' he asked.

''Yes, Aidan was a present from my father. He sent me the egg which hatched only a few days ago. She is very gentle and loyal to me but I am afraid that she still mistrusts other people so I will have to pass on your request to touch her in fear that she might get startled and attack you.'' Tyrion's hopeful look fell and he turned his attention from Ryssa to Jon.

''And you? You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?'' he said to Jon who then walked away from him. ''Did I offend you?'' the little lord called after him. ''Sorry.'' Jon stopped in his tracks and turned back to Tyrion with a sour look. ''You are the bastard, though,'' he said as he walked towards him.

''Lord Eddard Stark is my father,'' Jon confirmed. Ryssa gave Aidan one more scratch on her head before sending her away into the night.

''But Lady Stark is not your mother, making you a bastard.'' She could see more anger seep into Jon's eyes even from a couple of yards distance. 'Oh gods don't let him say or do anything he would regret,' she prayed inside while watching the two men talk.

Tyrion Lannister seemed like an interesting person, in the least. He was not bothered by his height and seemed to rather like outwitting everyone who would stigmatize him for it. She could admire that.

''Let me give you some advice, bastard: Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can be never used to hurt you.'' That did seem quite clever when you think about it.

''The hell do you know about being a bastard?'' Jon asked the little lord as he started to walk away, probably to join the feast. Tyrion paused and turned to answer before he would continue on his way.

''All dwarves are bastards in their fathers' eyes.'' With that he took another swig out if his wineskin and went inside leaving both Jon and Ryssa to stare after him.

Ryssa chose not to say a word during their conversation thinking it would be of more effect on Jon. He already showed that he was not going to listen to her or his uncle, Benjen, so she figured that the words of a complete stranger would make him open his eyes. She cared for Jon, deeply, but he could be so infuriating with the way he was always brooding. She even went so far as to tell him he was worse than a woman when she has her moon blood once. The only problem with that comment was that she had forgotten Theon was with them at that moment and he hadn0t let Jon live down her words for the next couple of months. The only reason she tolerated Theon was that he reminded her of one of her cousins back home with his arrogance, even if her cousin could be even more arrogant no matter how impossible it seems.

''He is right you know,'' she said as she stepped up to Jon, who was still staring after Tyrion. ''There's no use in denying it.'' He frowned at her comment.

''I thought you were supposed to be on my side,'' he said.

''I _am_ on your side,'' she said with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her dark eyes. ''It is _you_ who is not on your side.''

''What is that even supposed to mean?!''

'Save me of the stupidity of men,'' she thought to the sky. ''If you do not wish to heed my words, fine, don't. Who am I to judge you and your choice of lifestyle?'' She was getting angry at him for being such an idiot. '' You want to go onto a humongous heap of ice and stone and spend the rest of your days freezing your arse up there, away from your family, everyone who loves you, cares for you and wishes only the best for you!? Then go! Become a Crow! But remember, what Lord Lannister was trying to tell you was: All dwarves are bastards, but not all bastards are dwarves.'' With that she stomped away from him, back into the Great Hall. Her blood felt like it had reached its boiling point.

...

Ryssa had wandered the hallways of Winterfell for almost an hour trying to cool down. Jon had really gotten on her nerve with his stubbornness, not even her horse, Wynter, was that stubborn, and that was saying something.

After a few more minutes, she had returned to the Hall only to find that some of the occupants were a bit more drunk than they were when she left, the King included. The minstrels were playing some songs she had never heard, probably from the South, and could see her sisters standing not too far from where she was looking at the dancing people with slightly confused expressions on their faces.

''Where have you been, Ro? We've been looking everywhere for you!'' Nientine told her when she approached them.

''I was just outside getting some air and got caught up talking to Jon,'' she admitted. ''Where are our brothers, if you don't mind me asking?'' Ryssa had only now noticed the lack of her brothers in the Hall. How could she have missed that? If they were her they would most probably be laughing and dancing, even climbing on top of tables wasn't out of the question.

''Bo went back to his room to sleep, he was tired, and Raf and Rin left with Ren,'' Yiehdel said in a small voice. ''They said they were going to some place called a 'Broth'. Isn't that a word for soup Ro?''

Ryssa smiled at her younger sister. ''You are right Della, 'broth' is a word for soup and they didn't go to a 'Broth', they went to a brothel,'' she explained to both the young twins. ''Gods help them when I get a hold of them,'' she muttered to herself.

Just then, she saw Nientine going up to the minstrels and whispering something in the leader's ear. When she moved a few steps away from them a familiar song started to play, it was one of the songs that usually played in Forgehammer during all big celebrations. It was a cheery song filled with the sound of drums, fiddles and, sometimes, bagpipes as well as flutes. No special dance existed to this song, you just took someone with you and let the music carry you away and move you to its beat. More people then rose from their seats and moved to the dancefloor, even Arya had decided to join in the dance. Since the Manalis sisters were the ones best versed to dancing to this song the all grabbed hands and moved into the centre of the crowd where they started dancing and twirling and laughing and screaming and jumping, doing cartwheels and pirouettes making the skirts of their dresses fly with them. Ryssa's looked like it was truly on fire, as she moved, so did the flames on its hem.

The rest of the evening went in an ecstatic mood, everyone was dancing and laughing and just having a great time. Ryssa was sorry Jon couldn't be a part of it but if he would rather pout and brood than have a good time let him have his way. She danced with her sisters to a few more songs, shared a dance with Lord Stark and Theon, much to her dismay. She had even danced with the crown prince, much to Sansa's dismay if it were to be concluded from the longing looks she was sending to them as they danced. Ryssa didn't like Joffrey; there was something about the boy that rubbed her the wrong way. That and the fact that he was spoiled rotten by the Queen. His siblings seemed much more pleasant company than him.

The last person she danced with that night was Robb. Even despite him almost stepping on her feet from time to time he was a good dancer and she didn't understand why he insisted that he was dreadful, she told him as much.

''I don't understand why you claim to be dreadful at dancing when you seem just alright to me,'' she told him as he twirled her as they danced.

''You give me more worth than I deserve,'' he told her with a smile.

''I'm serious,'' she exclaimed ''You haven't stepped on my either my dress or feet so I would call it a great accomplishment. Trust me, I've seen much worse dancers than you claim yourself to be.''

''And who could they be? Name one.''

''Theon,'' she said in a deadpan tone making them both laugh. He gave her one more twirl before bowing and kissing her hand as she curtsied, thus ending their dance. The returned to the table where they talked and joked all night before going to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sory about the long wait for this update! I know, mea culpa, mea culpa! To tell you the truth, I would've loved to update sooner but I had school and Italy and writer's block and so much more that...  
So, the poll is closed, I have the results and I won't tell you what they are because I want you guys to figure them out for yourselves. I don't know if any of you noticed but this fic combines both the show and the books so if any of you have never read the books and see something you're not familiar with, then it most probably came from the books. I try to stick to the show as much as I can but I find that some scenes that are able to explain a big part of inter-character relationships from the books have been cut form the show which is sad but I understand that they can't put every single detail into the episodes so I use some of those scenes to put Ryssa's relationship with others. This chapter was written heavily with the use of the book so there's that.  
Thank you guys so much for faving and following this story as well as a big 'thank you' to you who voted on the poll and/or sent me your votes via reviews and PMs. It just warms my heart to know that someone out there takes the time of the day to actually read the gibberish I write and it means so much.  
I have decided to make this a series of stories so there will be one story for each of the seasons. I hope to, at the very least, get to the end of season 1 this summer and start on season 2 but ,alas, there will probably be some huge obstacles on the way... Still, I hope you are enjoying your summer vacation 'cause I know I am since my school ended two weeks ago. I came back from Italy this Saturday and have been typing down this chapter ever since, given that I managed to write it whole in hand during the 6 days I was away.  
Also, one little interlude, I wanna know how you guys picture the Manalis family so in the reviews below tell me which actor/actress would you put in the role of the present Manalis'.  
Like I said in the previous author's note: I have 5 open slots when concerning characters and I wanna make young guys have more of a contribution to this story so if you have an OC you would like to see here, send them to me in the reviews or via PM and I'll incorporate them into this story :D  
Anyhow, I know I just bored you with my rambling so I present to you the long awaited Chapter 4**

Chapter 4

The morning after the feast, Ryssa easily woke at the usual hour she did. She went about her routine but decided not to braid her hair in its usual style but simply tied it in a high ponytail with a black silk ribbon with her bangs falling into her face. With haste, she applied a small amount of kohl around her black eyes and put on her clothes. Today, she had persuaded her brothers to let her and Nia spar with them; it had been a few months since she had last had a challenging spar. She wasn't in any way implying that men at Winterfell were not well trained, simply that her fighting style and skill were on a whole another level as opposed to theirs. In the light of that agreement, she put on a high collared tight-fitting white tunic, black leather breeches, a black corset vest with red laces and her boots. Anticipating she could end up doing archery, she grabbed her fingerless gloves from her vanity and strapped her blades to her thighs and her sword to the small of her back so it wouldn't get in the way when she pulled the smaller blades.

Running through the halls, she headed to the stables to get Wynter and head to the nearest brothel to find her brothers. According to her sisters, Ren took the Twins there while she was having her conversation with Jon. She didn't really mind they were going there, but she still thought of the Twins as her two innocent younger brothers and thought they were still a bit too young to be with a woman. Ren, on the other hand, was a whole another story. The fact was that the man was the biggest man-whore she had known until she met Tyrion Lannister last night. If you couldn't find him anywhere, the chances were that you would sooner find him in the company of a woman than anywhere else.

With that in mind, Ryssa mounted her humongous black stallion and set out beyond the walls of Winterfell to Wintertown. The journey lasted only twenty minutes thanks to Wynter's long strides and she soon found herself being taken through the halls of the brothel to a room that supposedly was occupied by her younger brothers.

...

"I am _never _drinking again, you hear me?!" Raf moaned for the five hundredth time it seemed. His head was still dripping wet form when Ryssa dumped a bucket of water on him to wake him up. With how high he jumped in shock, she was surprised he hadn't broken through the roof and ended up with his head stuck up in the floor of the room that was above the one he occupied. Rin was no different, except he started running around the room like he was on fire to which Ryssa just shook her head and paid the woman that took her to them some silver for her trouble.

She found Therenger perched on the fence she left Wynter at, a huge smirk on his face and a green apple he had been peeling in his hands. His horse, a beige gelding named 'Royal', patiently waiting next to his master and the Twins' horses, Leaper and Racer.

"Well, that's what you get for being such light-weights," Therenger teased "I mean, really, only two bottles of wine and you're both already on the floor asleep. Sometimes I'm just embarrassed to be called a brother of you two." It was true; Ryssa had once seen Therenger drink a whole barrel of Dornish wine by himself before asking for a refill. She swore that the man was simply not human sometimes.

"I hope you just learned your lesson." Ryssa's voice the perfect authority for the younger boys to sit up straighter in their saddles as they were almost at the gates of WInterfell. "I also hope you won't be drinking in brothels anymore."

Therenger interjected, "At least until you've developed more of an immunity for alcohol!"

"_Ren!_" Ryssa exclaimed. "I'm actually trying to get something through those thick skulls of theirs and here you are, trying to undermine my work!"

Therenger flashed her a dazzling smile that had most girly swooning and letting him do as he pleased. "It's all in good sport, dear sister."

She waved her finger at him, "Oh, no you don't! That's not going to work on me and you know it! I've seen one too many of those smiles to develop an immunity to them. Your charms don't work on me ser!"

...

It took them about half an hour to get the Twins ready for their spars but they somehow managed to get the moaning duo into their sparing clothes and some food down their throats before dragging them by the ears to the courtyard, weapons in hand.

In the true Manalis fashion, all the children were well versed in the use of any weapon available in Westeros but each chose to specialize in the use of a single weapon at the age of ten. Therenger decided on the war hammer, Ryssa on her daggers, Niantine on her bow and the Twins both decided on swords.

Niantine was already by the archery range waiting for them, her weirwood bow in hand and a large quiver filled to the brim with arrows strapped to her back while an elegant sword hung from her hip. She was dressed in a warm brown dress with sleeves that went to her elbows and a long skirt with slits that ran all the way to her hips on both sides for better movement, black breeches and her sand coloured hunting boots with fur lined bracers on both her forearms and fingerless gloves. Her luscious brown hair was tied in a tight braid down her back and kohl lined her brown eyes.

"Took you all long enough. I've been waiting for you all here for the last twenty minutes." Though her face was devoid of emotion her voice was filled with laughter. In the eyes of those who were not familiar with her, she was seen as weird for this feature but to her family it was a normal occurrence. Niantine just wasn't good at expressing herself in conversations.

"The 'Bumbling Idiot Duo' had decided that today's spar was just not worth their presence for they have the most horrendous headache this side of the world," Ryssa explained with an overly dramatic tone and a bunch of hand gestures.

Niantine shook her head at her younger brothers who were being dragged to the other side of the yard where some men were already sparring. Ryssa knew that Robb and Bran would most probably spar as well as the princes but that Jon would be forbidden since he was a bastard. She could already picture him brooding from some window while the others got the chance to hack at eachother.

"So," Niantine spoke to her sister, "You ready?" Seemingly from nowhere she produced another bow, this one made from dark wood, and a quiver like hers passing them to Ryssa who immediately strapped them to her back. Both sisters took their stances and let a barrage of arrows into the targets going further and further away with each shot that hit the centre.

While most lords practice archery without a quiver on their backs, the Manalis' did since it got the archer used to the weight of arrows on their back and with time they could say the exact number of arrows in the quiver just by its weight. It was a skill that had to be honed every single day lest you fall out of practice which can mean your death in the heat of battle. Even if they were at the time of peace there was always another war just beyond the corner and one had to be fully prepared for the day it would strike down.

When the sisters ran out of yard they came back to the targets and pulled all their arrows and put them back in their quivers while comparing results. Ryssa managed to miss the centre only one or two times while Niantine hit every single time, splitting a few arrows in the process.

Out of nowhere, Niantine decided to break the silence. "Are you excited about going to the South?"

Ryssa looked at her with a bewildered look. "Where did this come from, Nia?" Niantine just shrugged.

"I figured since you're the Stark' female ward Lord Stark would take you to King's Landing with him to keep company to his daughters. Lady Sansa seems very excited about going, or she did this morning during our embroidery lessons. Lady Arya doesn't seem so excited about the notion but there is nothing she can do about it, so I simply wondered how you felt about all this." The sad tone of her voice was unmistakable to Ryssa's ears. Her sister was sad she was to leave Winterfell to go even further away from their home and family. At least while she was still at Winterfell it took a short two to three weeks of riding to see each other. However, this way they won't be able to see each other until the day Ryssa stopped being Stark's ward and came back to Forgehammer or at Ryssa's wedding day, which was highly unlikely since Ryssa proclaimed she would never marry anyone.

With a soft look on her face Ryssa said: "I'll miss you too Nia, more than words can describe. I miss home so much. I miss the biting cold of the mornings and evenings, wearing my fur cloak, the sound of the pack in the night while they sing to the moon. I miss the constant laughter and screaming of the young ones that fills the halls, the sound and smell of the forges. The frozen lake we skate at, the Heart tree at our Godswood and pre-dawn horse races with father, I miss it all. I miss father's voice and mother's stories. I'll always miss them and I'll always miss you all as well. There's no place like home and I will come back to you one day." She could feel tears filling her dark eyes but she was afraid to let them flow in fear they would smudge the kohl that lined her eyes and so everyone would know she had cried. She never cried, not even when she was only nine and she got lost north of the Wall leaving her to take care of herself for two months before her father managed to find her with the help of one of the direwolves from their Godswood. It was a fact; Ryssa Manalis never shed a tear. Taking a deep breath to calm herself a little she continued: "I'm not truly excited about going South. The heat would probably melt me before we've left the Riverlands. I am also not very keen on my hair changing colour but there is nothing I can very well do about it, now can I?"

They both gave small laughs before deciding to go and see how their boys were doing and, maybe, getting to sharpen their own skills with the blade a little. Strapping their bows to their backs they made their way to the other side of the yard.

There were already dozens of spectators watching the current spar and they were so thickly pushed together that there was no hope for the sisters to pass them. To make things worse, the girls' height didn't give them any view whatsoever since both sisters were at only 5'6". Looking around for a better place to see Ryssa noticed a window in the covered bridge between the armoury and the Great Keep. To make matters better, in the window she could see two familiar dark heads observing the fight. Like she had predicted, Jon sat in the window brooding with Arya next to him. Nudging Niantine with her elbow she pointed towards the window to which the younger girl nodded. Making sure their gear was securely strapped to them and that no arrows would fall out of the quivers, the sisters ran to the walls and quickly scaled to the window taking both dark haired siblings and their direwolves by surprise.

"How did you two get here?" Arya questioned with the look of utmost surprise still etched on her long face.

"We scaled the walls," Niantine answered in a deadpan tone of voice that told not to ask any more questions before taking a place next to the two siblings. Sometimes the soft spoken girl could be positively terrifying and this was one of those moments.

Ryssa peered over their shoulders as they continued to watch the spar in the yard below. She had hoped t might be her brothers fighting but to her disappointment it was the youngest, Bran and Prince Tommen. Bran was so heavily padded he looked as though he had belted on a featherbed, and Prince Tommen, who was plump to begin with, seemed positively round. They were huffing and puffing and hitting at each other with padded wooden swords under the watchful eye of old Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms, a great stout keg of a man with magnificent white cheek whiskers. A dozen spectators, man and boy, were calling out encouragement, Robb's voice the loudest among them. She spotted Theon Greyjoy beside him, his black doublet emblazoned with the golden kraken of his House, a look of wry contempt on his face. Both of the combatants were staggering. Ryssa judged that they had been at it awhile.

"A shade more exhausting then needlework," Jon said to Arya.

"A shade more fun than needlework," Arya countered to what Jon smiled, reached over and messed up his sister's hair. Ryssa knew that Arya and Jon were always very close. It was plain obvious even to the blindest man. Jon cared for all his siblings but hic connection to Arya was stronger due to the fact that Arya never really card that Jon was a bastard. He was her brother and that was all the wild little girl needed.

"And what were you up to on this fine morning?" Jon asked Ryssa as both he and Arya turned to look at the two sisters who, despite their large difference in looks and personality, were as thick as thieves.

Ryssa shrugged, "Ah, the usual: rode to the nearest brothel in search of my brothers, gave the said brothers a lecture, dragged the said brothers back here and all but dressed them up and then dragged them back to the yard for their sparring lessons, had a little archery practice with my sister. You know, the stuff that happens on quiet days."

"You call that a _quiet_ day?" Arya asked.

"You do _not _wish to know what we call a busy day," Niantine answered with a small smile tugging at the corners of her full lips. Success, Ryssa thought, they had managed to pull a smile form Nia. She must like them already. "Anyways," Niantine spoke to Jon," what are you doing up here instead of fighting down there?" The question immediately wiped the smile from Jon's face and replaced it with a stoic look that hid all the anger from most people's eyes before he threw them a half smile.

"Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes," he said. "Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords."

"Well that is certainly the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Niantine said keeping her eyes glued to the two battling boys in the yard. "Just because you're a bastard doesn't mean you're any less worth than them. In my eyes, respect is earned not given."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Ryssa added. Her gloved hand found Ghost's head and gave him a scratch behind his ears to which the lupine leaned into her touch. His white fur was fluffy and silky soft beneath her fingers which seemed silly since he was supposed to be a fierce beast but to her he was just a big puppy who wanted to play.

"Well, I could do better than Bran," Arya said suddenly. "He's only ten, I'm twelve." It was obvious she was trying to get her brother in a better mood. At her words the two sisters shared a small smile that went unnoticed from the side of the, more or less, Stark siblings.

Jon looked at his sister. "You're too skinny," he said taking her arm and feeling for the muscle. Then he sighed and shook his head at the young girl. "I doubt you could even lift a longsword , little sister, never mind swing one."

Arya snatched her arm back from her brother's grasp and glared at him with her grey eyes to which he responded by messing up her hair again before the quartet went back to watching Bran and Prince Tommen corcle each other.

It took only a few seconds before Niantine became bored and excused herself form their company taking Ryssa's archery equipment with her as she left. Ryssa merely shrugged at her sister and took her place at the window next to Jon.

"You see Prince Joffrey?" Jon asked Arya. Ryssa, too, couldn't help her black eyes search for the arrogant prince in the crowd as did the younger girl. It took only a few seconds for her trained eyes to find the boy. He stood a little to the side surrounded by squires and knights.

"Look at the arms of his surcoat," Jon suggested.

An ornate shield had been embroidered on the prince's padded surcoat. No doubt the needlework was exquisite. The arms were pided down the middle; on one side was the crowned stag of the royal House, on the other the lion of Lannister.

"The Lannisters are proud," Jon observed. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's House equal in honour to the king's."

"The woman is important too!" Arya protested.

Jon and Ryssa chuckled. "He's not saying women are more important, simply that the arrogance of some knows no limits," Ryssa explained to the younger girl. "When the Targeryans were at power and Prince Rhaegar wed Elia Martell, the Martell's did not wed the red sun to the three-headed dragon and we both know their opinion of women. The point is that some people are stuck up and arrogant and only wish to have more power which is something the Lannisters are trying to achieve by putting their lion next to the Baratheon stag."

"Oh," the younger girl said as she understood what Ryssa said.

"Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister," Jon joked. "Wed Tully to Stark on your arms."

"A wolf with a fish in its mouth?" It made her laugh. "That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"

Jon shrugged. "Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I did not make the rules, little sister."

There was a shout from the courtyard below. Prince Tommen was rolling in the dust, trying to get up and failing. All the padding made him look like a turtle on its back. Bran was standing over him with upraised wooden sword, ready to whack him again once he regained his feet. The men began to laugh.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik called out. He gave the prince a hand and yanked him back to his feet. "Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armour." He looked around. "Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

Robb, already sweaty from a previous bout, moved forward eagerly. "Gladly."

Joffrey moved into the sunlight in response to Rodrik's summons. His hair shone like spun gold. He looked bored. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

Theon Greyjoy gave a sudden bark of laughter. "You are children," he said derisively.

"Robb may be a child," Joffrey said. "I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff," Robb said. "Are you afraid?"

Prince Joffrey looked at him. "Oh, terrified," he said. "You're so much older." Some of the Lannister men laughed.

Jon looked down on the scene with a frown. "Joffrey is truly a little shit," he told Arya.

Ser Rodrik tugged thoughtfully at his white whiskers. "What are you suggesting?" he asked the prince.

"Live steel."

"Done," Robb shot back. "You'll be sorry!"

The master-at-arms put a hand on Robb's shoulder to quiet him. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges."

Joffrey said nothing, but a man strange to Arya, a tall knight with black hair and burn scars on his face, pushed forward in front of the prince. "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it."

"Are you training women here?" the burned man wanted to know. He was muscled like a bull.

Hey, Ryssa thought at his comment, that's just plain rude. I could beat your sorry arse back to tomorrow if you made a comment like that again.

"I am training knights," Ser Rodrik said pointedly. "They will have steel when they are ready. When they are of an age."

The burned man looked at Robb. "How old are you, boy?"

"Seventeen," Robb said.

"I killed a man at twelve. You can be sure it was not with a blunt sword."

Arya could see Robb bristle. His pride was wounded. He turned on Ser Rodrik. "Let me do it. I can beat him."

"Beat him with a tourney blade, then," Ser Rodrik said.

Joffrey shrugged. "Come and see me when you're older, Stark. If you're not too old." There was laughter from the Lannister men.

Ryssa had decided that she had had enough and yelled form her seat at the window: "I'll fight you!" All heads turned to the sound of her voice, even Jon and Arya looked at her in bewilderment. "That is, if you're not too scared you'll get beaten by a woman," she continued in an overly-sickly sweet voice as she jumped down from the window to the yard landing gracefully on her feet and walking up to the prince. She could see that the prince was bluffing the moment he mentioned live steel. He was too much of a coward to fight Robb fairly and he knew that Ser Rodrik would never allow them to practice with live steel. He was just a little momma's boy and she was now determined to prove it even if it meant risking the wrath of the royal family, namely the Queen. "So, what do you say? You going to fight me or not, boy? I don't have all day you know," she pressed on. She could see Joffrey's cheeks start turning redder from anger but before he could burst one of his knights yelled at her.

"How dare you?! Don't you know any respect for your Prince?!"

"I'll show him some respect when he has earned some, Ser," Ryssa pinned the man with an icy glare and she was glad to see a tiny shudder pass his body. "Respect is earned, not given and when he has given me a reason to respect him I shall but until then I shall not. Is that clear or do I have need of smaller words so that your small brain may comprehend that." The man stayed silent." I thought so." She turned back to the prince with a raised eyebrow. "So, your Grace, what shall it be?"


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hi, guys! It's me again and with new update. Yes it is true, I just finished writing this chapter, it took me about three whole hours to finish it but I thought you guys deserved a little reward for being so awesome. Over 350 views on the last chapter yesterday! I can't tell you guys how much I appreciate it! I would also like to thank the 4 new readers that have decided to follow this story! :* I can only hope that you'll like the way I resolved the little cliff-hanger I left yesterday. I spent up half the night pondering on how to do it and I decided on this and I hope you'll be pleased. We'll also learn some more small titbits about Ryssa and her siblings and we get Aidan back, if only for a little while. The prayer that Ryssa says at the end of this chapter is, for you who don't know, a little redone version of the song 'The Prayer' that features in the animated movie 'The Quest for Camelot' which just so happens to be one of the movies I literally grew up watching but this is the version that was sung by Chloë from 'The Celtic Woman'. Anyhow, I hope you'll like this update and leave me your opinions in the reviews. The more reviews I get, the sooner I'll post a new chapter.**

Chapter 5

"So," Ryssa said with a raised black eyebrow. "Are you going to fight me or not?" She was taunting Prince Joffrey. She had seen through his bluff when he asked for him and Robb to use live steel in their fight and that immediately showed her how much of a coward he really is.

"Are you sure you even know how to use a real blade, young lady?" the Hound taunted her in return. "You don't even look like you can lift a longsword."

Ryssa shot him a cold look. "I assure you, _Ser,_ that I am more than adept at the usage of a longsword as well as many more weapons. I am willing to wager that I would be able to unarm even you within minutes if not before".

"Oh, is that true? You ever killed a man before, girl?" The burned man stood in front of her and looked her straight in the eye.

"I was nine and I killed two men using a blunt stick I found in the woods. I am more than able to defend myself from bullies. I am also willing to fight you as well if only to prove my point." Her voice was clipped and ice cold. For what seemed like the first time anyone had seen, Ryssa Manalis was as cold as the land she was born in, if not colder.

In the meantime, Joffrey seemed to regain some of his bearing and turned to leave the yard. "Come, Tommen," he said as he left with his escort, the Hound following behind him. "The hour of play is done. Leave the children to their frolics." He entered the Great Keep but not before he shot Ryssa with the look of utmost rage and hate to which she merely smirked and raised her eyebrow.

From the corner of her eye she spotted a furious red-faced Robb being held back by Theon and, also, a red-faced Ser Rodrik. Only when the princes were out of sight did Theon release his grip on Robb who immediately brushed off his friend's hands from his arms.

"Why did you do that?!" Robb growled at her when the crowd dispersed. "I was more than able to take care of everything!" He was in her face now and huffing in rage.

"No, you weren't," she told him calmly. "Look at yourself, you're out of control. You can't even think straight right now and that is _exactly _what that little prick wants. Had you really fought him he would have told everything to his parents and that you would have gotten yourself in real trouble." She tried to get some sense in the raging man's head and calm him down if only a little so that he could see her logic. This way, that she had gotten herself mixed in all this mess it was her that would get the burn of the Queen's rage and not her friend. She also knew very well that the Queen would not be able to hurt her as long as her siblings were at Winterfell. If that were to occur, then Therenger would surely write to their father who would see this as an act of war on the Lannister's side, raise his banners, all thirty thousand of them, and march South in search for retribution. "This way only I will get hurt and even that is going to have to wait until my brothers have left us on the road to King's Landing or else the Lannisters will have the entire army of the Ashlands on their tails. I can take anything they can throw at me. You, on the other hand, are the heir of Winterfell and were something to happen to you, or any of your siblings, I would never be able to forgive myself."

Robb seemed to calm down a little at hearing her words. She was getting through to him! He was a very impulsive man, she knew that very well. To hell, she even grew up with an impulsive elder brother and cousin so she knew the signs. They would always dive in head-first and ask questions later. Only in the aftermath would they see their mistakes and have to deal with the dire consequences.

"I guess you are right," he admitted. "I was not thinking straight. Perhaps I should not have reacted so severely at the Hound's words?" He scratched the back of his neck and looked at his feet in shame. "In the end, I acted like the child he called me."

She crossed her arms with a good-natured smile. "You're right, you shouldn't have reacted so harshly but the damage has already been done." She put a hand on his shoulder making him look her in the eye. "Let's hope next time someone tells you you're a child, you won't lash out at them like you did just now." She patted his cheek feeling the beginnings of the stubble that had begun to grow there on her fingers. Ryssa took a small sniff and scrunched up her nose. "Now go wash! You stink!" She playfully pushed him away and took a few steps back waving her hand in front of her face as to emphasize her words. Robb and her brothers, who were still sitting on the fence to the side, let out small laughs.

...

She could feel tears filling her eyes but like earlier that morning, she was too much of a coward to let them flow. Ryssa watched with sadness etched on her face and dark eyes as her brothers and sisters all mounted their horses. Once again, she was going to be away from them. The longest she was ever from them, before she came to Winterfell, was the two months she spent in the far North when she got lost in the woods. Just like then, she could feel her heart breaking a little from not knowing when the next time she sees them will be.

Ryssa spent the better part of the morning sparring with her brothers. She beat both Twins with little to no difficulty thanks to her natural flexibility and her acrobatic skills. She almost died of laughter at the faces Theon and Robb made when she stepped on Raf's blade, that had gotten stuck in one of the posts of the fence he had previously sat on, and used it as leverage to jump over her brother just to swipe his feet from under him when she had landed behind him. Or when she slid down between Rin's legs on her back while she blocked his forceful blows with her significantly smaller sword, or when she managed to flip Ren over her head using his charge as a boost landing him on his back which enabled her to straddle her brother's waist and press one of her daggers to his throat while she kept the other one poised right over his groin with a wide grin on her face.

The fight with Therenger had been one of the most difficult fights she had had in the time she had been with the Starks and she loved it. She had always loved the fights she had with him because they would always leave her muscles aching and there was no way to tell who was going to win until someone did. His strength may have been greatly superior to her own and her arms always hurt when she parried his monstrous blows but she had always been faster and more agile, able to squeeze out of his crushing holds and barrages of blasts. Even though they always used live steel in their spars, since they were young children, they would usually end up with some minor scrapes and scratches and a whole lot of bruises. The severest wound that had been sustained in their spars was when Ryssa had managed to cut Therenger right below the eye and left him with a small scar.

"We are going to see each other very soon, Ro," Therenger assured her as her grabbed her in a bone-crushing embrace. "You won't even have the time to miss us and you'll already be back home."

"I miss you all already," she admitted as he let her go. Ryssa offered her brother a sad smile. "Don't go and drink yourself to death while I'm away. I don't know who I'm going to spar with if something happened to you," she warned him to what he gave a bellowing laugh.

"We'll throw a feast when you come home just so I can get you drunk, sister. Then you'll see how great it actually is."Ryssa swore her shoulder was going to fall off when he 'patted' her on it. Sometimes that man was not aware how strong he really was but she loved him all the same. He was her big brother and he was always there for her when she needed him.

With a smile she turned to Niantine. "You keep a good eye on them. Keep both if needed. They're going to need someone to put some sense into those empty skulls of theirs," she whispered as they embraced so that her brothers don't hear her. "Don't get married while I'm gone," Ryssa warned. "If you do, who am I going to hunting with when I come back?"

Niantine gave a small smile. "There's no man that could keep me away from our hints and you know that, Ro." A playful smirk danced on the lips of the usually stoic girl. "I am only scared that it might be you who is married by the time you return," she teased.

Ryssa gave a mock-gasp of terror. "I hope you were not serious, sister. There is no chance in this world that I shall get married. Why should I need a man when I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself on my own?" Ryssa stated in an overly dramatic tone. "Now, begone from my sight before I crush you for your insolence!"

Ryssa turned to Rafaem and Ranald. "I'm gonna' say anything to you. I know that whatever I tell you will fall on deaf ears so I won't even try." She waved a dismissive hand at them and made to pass them by so that she could hug Baessrad but was stopped by the Twins each grabbing one of her arms and pulling her back to them to hug her.

"We'll miss you too, Ro," they said at the same time. Like the true twins they were, Raf and Rin usually finished each other's sentences or spoke at the same time. Ryssa's eyes softened at the affection her brothers were showing her and she hugged them back.

"You better not get into any trouble while I'm gone," she said.

The boys scoffed. "Get in trouble, we?" Raf said. "Don't you know who you're talking to, sister?" Rin asked.

"I do! That's why I'm telling you!"

"Oh, ye of little faith," Rin cryed to what Raf said: "We shall prove you wrong so that when you come home we shall make you eat your words, dear sister!"

Ryssa smirked. "I'd like to see you try." She moved on to Baessrad. The small boy was probably an inch or two taller that Arya with the Manalis red hair that was accompanied by cinnamon coloured freckles which dusted his slightly chubby cheeks and the slope of his sharp nose. Unlike him, Ryssa had no freckles but she had a small beauty mark in the corner of her left eye.

"When you come back you're going to see my new invention, won't you Ro?" the boy asked in his small voice. Beassrad was probably the most intelligent child his age. Even at the tender age of ten, he was already fluent in High Valyrian, something not all of his, mostly grownup, siblings could boast. He was constantly in the library with his nose deep in some book or scribbling different notes and making designs to different inventions, one crazier than the other. They would often tell the boy that he should go to the citadel to satisfy his need for learning. So far, only three of his crazy inventions had proven to be operational but that did not stop the little inventor. He was dead serious about making life at Forgehammer and everyday work easier for its inhabitants.

"Of course I will, Bo," Ryssa told the small boy as she embraced him. "Tell you what, when I come back I will even help you with your next invention. I'll be at your disposal for a whole month. So, how does that sound, my little maester?" A huge smile broke on Bo's face and he threw himself in his sister's arms, almost knocking her to the ground in the process.

"Thank you, Ro!" he cried.

"You're welcome, little maester."

Finally, Ryssa turned to Mientyha and Yiehdel, the little girls dressed in their different shade purple traveling dresses and black boots with white fur rimming, and hugged them both firmly. "You girls be good and listen to the others while I'm gone. Give mother, father and Ty big hugs and kisses in my name and tell them I miss them dearly and, when I come back, we'll go skating on the lake and I'll show you girls how to make a triple loop, okay?"

The girls both nodded their heads. "No problem, Ro," Mientyha said. "We'll be the best!" Yiehdel exclaimed.

Ryssa grinned. "That's my girls!" She kissed the both girls on their foreheads and helped them mount their horses.

She followed them all the way to Winterfell's gates where she stopped and kept waving at them until she could see them no more in the darkness. They always travelled at night. In reality, it was much safer for them and there was nothing to worry about since they all had their weapons with them, ready to attack any threat. When they were finally out of her sight, Ryssa came back inside the Great Keep. Immediately, Aidan flew from the direction of her room and perched herself on her left shoulder. Ryssa started petting her companion and the majestic bird leaned into her touch the moment Ryssa's hand touched the feathers.

She went to the Great Hall where dinner was being held. She knew that tonight she would again be seated at the table next to the Stark siblings and she felt a little sad that Jon wouldn't be able to join them. The conversations she had with Robb, Arya and Jon combined were the highlight of most of her nights. Still she had to be content with what she had and not be selfish. It was what her mother had drilled in her skull from an early age.

"You need to be grateful for what you have. Many people are not so lucky like you are," she could hear her mother say inside her head. So she decided to skip dinner tonight and instead went to the Heart Tree in the Stark's Godswood to pray for her siblings.

Sometime later, she had arrived at the tree. It was just the same as it was the last time she had visited it. The bone white arm-like branches seemed like they were trying to reach out to her, the blood red leaves like fingers to those arms. The pond in front of the tree was completely still, it looked like it was made of Dragonglass. What Ryssa loved most about the weirwood tree was the face that was carved into its bark. It reminded her of home and gave her a strange sense of security and that there was always someone watching over her.

She dropped to her knees in front of the tree and put her hands together not caring if she got mud and grass stains on the skirt of her dress. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she started praying.

"I pray you'll be my eyes and watch them where they go. And help them to be wise in times when they don't know. Let this be my prayer as they go their way. Lead them to a place, guide them with your grace to a place where they'll be safe..." she prayed for her siblings.

"I ray we find you light and hold it in our heart. When stars go out each night, remind us where you are. Let this be my prayer when shadows fill our days. Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace, give us faith so we'll be safe..." she prayed for herself and for the Starks.

"We ask that life be kind and watch us from above. We hope each soul will find another soul to love. Let this be my prayer, just like every child needs to find a place, guide us with your grace, and give us faith so we'll be safe..."


	6. Chapter 6

Ryssa could still hardly believe she was allowed to come to the last hunt with the men. She was so prepared for Lord Stark's refusal that she was shocked when he decided to let her come. It was common knowledge that women didn't accompany men on feats such as these, except in places like, maybe, Dorne and the Ashlands. To her knowledge, those were the only places in the Seven Kingdoms that treated their women like equal to men. Ryssa was positively over the moon when Lord Stark said 'yes'. She hadn't gone on a hunt since she had arrived here and she missed the feeling dearly. When she was home she often went on hunts with her father and later, when Niantine had grown a little, with her sister. Her horse, Wynter, had finally warmed up to her during one of those hunts when they were caught in a heavy blizzard and were separated from the others.

Wynter had injured himself when he slipped and fell on a stray branch which cut his hind leg pretty badly. When they had managed to find shelter in a small abandoned cave, Ryssa tore all the spare cloth she could from her hunting dress and made some makeshift bandages for the injured animal that were supposed to last until they were reunited with their group. At first, the stallion was completely feral, still being frightened from his fall, and didn't allow her to approach him at all but as time passed and he calmed down a little she was finally able to get close to him. Ever since that day, the huge black stallion was very protective of his rider and would gladly get himself killed if it meant the safety of the little human that helped him during that storm.

The hunting party left at dawn so Ryssa had more than enough time to pack for it. She took a small red bedroll from her trunk she had packed just in case she ever needed it. Mother always told her to be prepared for anything, those words having more sense since her mother was one of the Free Folk. In her saddle bags, Ryssa packed a change of clothes and spare boots. She also brought her usual hunting gear like her skinning tools and some coal to purify the water they found, some spare waterskins, bandages and some healing herbs she had since she left Forgehammer. All the while she was packing she sang under her breath as to not wake anyone. She was also as quiet as possible when packing for the same reason.

Buried almost at the bottom of her trunk were her hunting clothes: a formfitting high necked shirt of finest winter silks, a leather brown corset vest to which she would strap any spare knives she might need to use, a forest green woollen coat that reached just above her knees with a neckline rimmed in silver grey wolf fur and sleeves that ended at her elbows, thick brown leather breeches, brown leather hunting boots that went up to her knees and were rimmed with the same fur as her coat, black bracers that covered her forearms and were padded with the silver grey fur to keep her warm and her black leather fingerless gloves. The only difference in her outfit form the times she went hunting at home would be that she would forego her thick brown furry hunting cloak and wear a much lighter brown winter wool cloak with only the hood padded and rimmed with silver grey fur so she wouldn't get too warm during the hunt.

Putting on her clothes, Ryssa quickly made two six-strand braids that went on the sides of her head from her temples to the back of her skull where they met and formed one twelve-strand braid and were tied with a small weirwood bead her father had carved for her, giving the image of a braided diadem on her head and rimmed her eyes with kohl before she fastened her cloak, took her things and went to the stables where Wynter patiently waited for her.

"Hey, boy," she greeted the massive black animal as she entered the stables. She was the first to come down so she decided to first groom her horse a bit before they had to leave. She opened the pen Wynter was kept in to let him out. The horse immediately stepped out and obediently stood at the side, no fear of him running off, and nuzzled into her scarlet hair. "You know, for such a big scary beast you're just a big softie." Ryssa patted the horse's neck and closed the pen doors before taking a brush and brushing his black pelt until it shined, Wynter obediently lowering his head so she could reach the higher parts of his neck and his head. After that, she combed out his luscious black mane and tail, not forgetting the thick black feathering on his legs. She picked pebbles from his hooves, she forgot to do it the prior day due to her dragging the Twins to dress up so she hadn't groomed Wynter like she usually does after their rides.

Her horse was so big that his shoulders stood at least three to four inches above the top of her head. She loved riding Wynter because it made her feel so much taller that she really was and was the only opportunity she had to literally look down on someone, not counting children and dwarves.

None of her sisters were tall to begin with, they had gotten that from their mother, a petite woman who was as tough as nails but had a heart of gold, while all her brothers had taken after their father and were quite tall for their age. The finest examples of that were Therenger and Baessrad. With his 6'5'' frame, Therenger towered most people while young Baessrad, who was the same age as little Bran, was even a few inches taller than Arya, who was two years older than him. There was even a chance that the scarlet haired boy could outgrow Therenger but it was fairly obvious that he would never have the muscly frame their dark haired brother had. Baessrad had always been as thin as a stick, the only visible fat in his face, while Therenger was always as beefy as he is right now.

After she was finished grooming her horse, Ryssa started saddling the huge animal just as Robb entered the stables and went to his own horse.

"Well, you are up early," he said while taking his horse from its pen. Wynter simply glared in the auburn haired man's direction, well, as much as a horse can glare. Seeing this, Ryssa gave her horse a small slap on his nose and pointed a warning finger at him to which Wynter hung his head making him look like a pouting child.

"I've been up for hours. To tell you the truth, that's the time I normally wake up so it's not a big deal." She was making sure her saddle was strapped just right or else she might fall off or Wynter could choke while they rode. You can never be too careful with things like that. "It's a habit, I suppose."

"What about when you get drunk? Are you then able to wake at this ungodly hour?" Robb asked. Even though she couldn't see his face from Wynter's massive frame, she knew he was grinning at her. She could hear it in his voice.

She smirked. "I don't get drunk, young wolf," she said. "Unlike my brothers, I know when to stop. The last thing I wish is to wake up on a random roof half naked," she said before adding under her breath: "again."

"What was that last part?" Robb asked. He was suddenly standing right next to her and right in the reach of Wynter's hind leg.

"What last part?" she asked feigning ignorance.

Robb crossed his arms over his chest while grinning at the shorter girl. "You know well what I mean."

Ryssa raised a black eyebrow at him and kept her face as impassive as she could. "No, I don't." She pointed her finger at Robb. "I only know that I would not stand there if I were you."

"And why is that?" he asked cocking his head. As if on cue, Wynter's leg flew up and, with a light but still forceful blow, hit Robb straight in the stomach making him wheeze out and bend at the waist, his arms clutching at the hit area.

"That's why," Ryssa said with a smirk before giving Wynter an encouraging pat on the shoulder and proceeding to strap her saddle bags and her bedroll to the saddle.

"Remind me to never tease you when you have your horse near again," Robb wheezed as he stood up and returned to his own horse, his own saddled faster than hers since his wasn't as big and he had significantly less things with him than she did. "Why are you carrying so much stuff with you?" he asked when he saw her stuffed bags.

"I carry them just in case, you know." She shrugged her shoulders like it's not a big deal. This was even less than she carried on her hunts up North.

"No, I don't know. But, really, what would you need a bedroll for?" They led their horses to the yard where most of their party was waiting for them.

"I've gotten separated from my companions during hunts and rides so many times that I just carry it with me out of habit. You never know when you're going to need it. I surely don't fancy sleeping on the ground with a cold stone as my pillow."

"Wisely spoken," the voice of Tyrion Lannister told her. Looking up, she saw him sitting on his horse in an odd looking saddle. It probably helped him stay on his horse so she said nothing about it. After all, she did have some manners.

"See?" she said to Robb. "At least someone appreciates my logic."

Robb raised his eyes to the sky and let out an exasperated sigh. "You know I did not mean it that way, Ryssa." Grey Wind appeared at his feet suddenly and whined slightly while looking at Ryssa with his big puppy eyes. "Forgive me?" Robb asked hopefully while Ryssa had her eyes glued to the lupine at his feet who was asking for his master's forgiveness as well.

Ryssa sighed in defeat and scratched Grey Wind behind his ears. "Fine, I forgive you this time," she said.

Robb gave her a wide grin. "Thank you, Ryssa," he said and hugged her around the shoulders with his free arm.

She quickly moved out of his hug and pointed at him with her finger. "You're just lucky that wolf of yours is so cute, otherwise you'd be in a lot of trouble, young wolf," she jokingly warned him.

"I shall take what I can," he said with a mock bow. "Do you need help with mounting your horse?" he asked when she moved to get up.

Ryssa simply shook her head. "I think I can manage on my own," she said and quickly but elegantly swung onto her horse by grabbing Wynter's long thick mane as leverage. The huge animal didn't move a single inch without his master's approval but, rather, opted for staring at Robb with assessing intelligent brown eyes.

Tyrion gave out a small chuckle from his seat. "You two bicker like an old married couple," he said mirthfully.

"We're hardly married, Lord Lannister. More like just good friends," Ryssa assured the small statured man as Robb mounted his horse and nodded in agreement to her words before going to his father's side. She could see the King and Prince Joffrey already there as well as some of the members of the Kingsguard with the exception of Jaime Lannister, The Kingslayer. "Besides," she continued. "I don't plan on ever marrying."

"And, pray tell, why is that?" Tyrion asked leaning a little closer to her.

"I have no need for a man in my life. I can very well take care of myself. I can hunt, cook, fight... Why would I need a man?" She pulled her hood over her head to cover her scarlet hair. When hunting, the last thing you want is for someone to see you, be they animal or human, and with her easily noticeable hair she had to cover it while travelling and hunting. The same went for her brothers, Rafaem, Ranald and Baessrad.

"Good reason," the little lord told her. "Tell me," he started. "Where did you learn so much about hunting and survival? It is not every day that you meet a lady that does not faint at the sight of little blood, let alone is willing to partake in a hunting party full of men."

Ryssa offered him a dazzling smile. "My father married a woman of the Free Folk, Wildlings as you Southerners like to call them, and she taught us that entire she knew about the wild. I also often accompanied my father on his hunts when I was a child. Women are treated equally as men where I come from so it was very easy to accept in our society," she explained.

Tyrion seemed to think about her words for a minute or two before he spoke again. "Yes, I seem to recall that coming as a large shock to many of the other lords."

"I can only imagine," Ryssa chuckled.

"They were all shocked that such a great warrior and powerful man would stoop so low as to marry a savage from over the Wall."

"They're _not _savages," Ryssa spat out feeling angry that the man she had started to like would say such a thing about her mother and her people. "You Southerners know nothing about them. You only call them that because they are something unknown to you and people have always been afraid of the unknown."

"I apologize for making it seem that way but I was only stating what other have thought. I never said that was what I thought." She could see the sincerity in his mismatched eyes and it calmed the anger in her a little.

"It still hurts to know that most think of the woman that gave birth to you as a savage," she admitted. "She taught me how to survive in the wild but she also taught me how to sing and dance and play music. My mother isn't a savage, Lord Lannister, but a woman who left her people to be with the man she loves."

The party had finally decided to leave. With a small click of her tongue, Ryssa urged Wynter to go and the horse immediately obeyed her order.

...

Ryssa was flying on Wynter's back, the trees and bushes passing by her in a blur, her black eyes trained on the heard of deer's the party had run into. She was chasing them through the woods, trying to get them to the party. They were separated from the others as Wynter navigated through the foliage with certainty in his massive steps. Ryssa was being held to her mount only be the strength of her thighs, her arms securely wrapped around her bow, ready to shoot the animals at first opportunity. She could feel blood flowing down her cheek from the small cut there she got when she forgot to bend down ad got hit by a passing branch. It stung a little but wasn't the worst she had experienced. A direwolf's bites hurt a hell of a lot more than some minor cuts like these.

A tiny whistle from her lips was enough to urge Wynter to go faster, his stride longer and faster. The massive horse was so used to strains like these that he was hardly gasping for breath like other horses would. His breaths were deep and steady like he was merely walking instead of rushing in a full blown gallop.

Chasing the heard to a clearing in the woods, Ryssa spotted the others coming from the opposite direction. Seeing her chance she took aim and let one of her arrows fly. Like in slow-motion, she saw her arrow fly through the cold northern air before it hit one of the stags right through the eye, killing it instantly, and the animal slumping to the ground as little blood seeped from the area the arrow pierced. Her companions were too slow and the heard had managed to escape with only the stag Ryssa had hit dead.

Pulling on the reins, Ryssa and Wynter came to a stop just before the corpse of the stag. Jumping off her horse, she crouched next to the dead animal, pulled her arrow from its head and wiped it of blood on a small handkerchief she had in one of the pockets in her vest.

...

In the end, they had managed to catch a boar and a whole bunch of hares, apart from the stag Ryssa shot at the beginning of the hunt. Most of the hares were caught by Ryssa while they were returning to Winterfell. She would spot them in the foliage and shoot them before anyone knew what was happening. She was blessed by the gods not to be in need of using one of the bigger knives she had in her vest.

Since she was never such a good marksman like Niantine, who never missed, she would sometimes have to use a knife to quickly finish the animal she caught so that it wouldn't suffer much. Ryssa never liked hunting for sport. Wildlife was scarce in the North so her people only hunted when they were in need of food and/or fur and never in sport. They never sold the fur either. The only things they sold to the other regions of Westeros were their forging products, armours, weapons and jewellery and their horses.

They had the best horses the North could offer. The horses were large stout beasts, strong, fast and able to withstand cold winters. They were hot-blooded beasts with short tempers but extremely fond and protective of their riders. Wynter was one of the finest examples of such breeding. Wynter's mother was an elegant albino mare with a soft temper but was as fast as the wind while his father was a large bay stallion of unmatchable strength called 'Aeronym'. Wynter was his last offspring before he was killed when a pack of wild wolves attacked the heard one night. The direwolves from their Godswood killed the pack but they were too late to save Aeronym and so they lost one of their best breeding horses.

It was when they had neared the gates of Winterfell that they heard a hauntingly familiar scream pierce the morning air.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hey guys, it's me again, bringing you a new update. :D I have to tell you that this chapter practically wrote itself thanks to the beautiful song featured in it. The song is called 'The Last of the Giants' and was actually featured in the third book, 'A Storm of Swords', where it is sung by the wildlings. If you can't imagine what it would sound like when sung I recommend you listen Karliene Reynolds' version. It's a very haunting piece and it really has the feel of it being sung by wildlings so I'll leave you guys the link so you can go and check it out.**

** watch?v=w4cqcinpbvw&list=PLlbw4GbOw5DvV_7G2P2IdXOw7bxf8v5d2 (No spaces, just copy and paste it in your searchers)**

**You might see some of her other GoT songs later in the story but that don't matter right now. We also get to know when and by who was the House Manalis. Yay for that! And we get to know a little bit more about the role Ryssa's pet Aidan has. Aidan's role isn't very important in season 1 but she is going to get more important during seasons 3 & 4 so you'll not get to see a lot of her until later on. **

**Now, though House Manalis has a fairly long history, there aren't many notable Manalis'. To be honest, there are like 5, if you don't count Ryssa, her siblings and her father, and one of them is a woman. Yes, a woman! It too will get a little bit more explanation later in the story but I can tell you that it has something to do with the looks of both pairs of Manalis twins. If you don't remember what they look like, go back to chapter 2 and there you have the physical descriptions of all the Manalis children except for the youngest since he wasn't in that chapter.**

**Anyhow, hope you'll like this new update and leave me a comment in the reviews so I know if you liked it or not. If there is something you don't like, feel free to tell me (no flames, pretty please). I appreciate constructive criticism since it helps me to bring you guys more believable characters. ;)**

Chapter 7

Ryssa sat at her vanity brushing her scarlet hair with a dull look in her black eyes. She could hear a wolf howling somewhere within the maze that was called 'Winterfell'. The sound tugged at her heartstrings. The howl took her from her chilly room and brought her spirit to the cold woods, to the company of the pack. Bran's direwolf had been howling all night and, though the sound of wolf howling normally put her to sleep immediately, she found herself unable to get a wink of sleep that night.

She could still hardly believe that Bran had fallen off that old tower. The boy was such a great climber; he had shown Ryssa all the secrets of climbing in Winterfell, all the grabs and footholds. It was incomprehensible to her. She had barely held her tears when she had seen Lady Catelyn's reaction. Her heart broke as she imagined Alya, her own mother, reacting like that to anyone of her children getting hurt like that. She still remembered the shock that coursed through her as she saw the sight of Bran's crushed legs. It was then that she knew that, if he survived his wounds, the boy would never walk again and it broke her heart even more.

Ryssa had spent half the night pondering on what she could do to help her hosts with dealing with this pain but nothing fell to her mind. What did she know of their pain, she had no children so she knew nothing of how Lady Catelyn felt right now.

Sighing, she tied her hair back in a simple fish plait, which she tied with a black silk ribbon, and applied a slightly larger amount of kohl around her eyes than normal before putting on a simple high necked black dress of winter silk with sleeves that flared out from her elbows and slits that run up her skirt all the way to her hips, brown leather breeches and black knee high boots. Like most of the castle, she too was in the state of mourning and showed it with her makeup and the choice of her wardrobe. Though this dress was not the true mourning dress women in her family wore it was still the same colour as that particular one.

Ryssa opened her window to let Aidan out before exiting her room and going to the Guest House to break her fast. She had been invited to eat with the Queen and while she did not particularly like the woman or her eldest son she had decided to join them out of sheer courtesy.

Her footsteps were quiet on the stone floors as she made her way down the halls. The castle seemed deserted and cold ever since Bran fell. Taking a deep calming breath, Ryssa entered the Guest House and stopped before the Queen before falling into a deep curtsey. "Your Graces, my Lords," she said in a clear voice. The Queen sat surrounded by her golden haired children and her brothers. The Queen motioned for her to stand up and she did, looking the woman straight into her cold emerald eyes. "You summoned me?"

"Yes," the Queen said with a smile that did not reach her eyes or her voice. "Come, sit and join us in our meal," she motioned for Ryssa to sit opposite to her, between her brothers.

Ryssa nodded and a servant approached her. "Bread, some eggs and bacon. Oh, and some water, please," she said to the servant who gave her a small smile and rushed to bring her food after bowing to her. Sitting at the table she took in the sight of the Queen and her brother, the Kingslayer. Twins, male and female. She had never seen something like that. Her brothers and sisters were identical twins and were like mirror images of one another. The Queen and the Kingslayer looked very much the part today. Both had chosen a deep green that matched their Lannister green eyes.

"So, my dear," the Queen started. "What is your name?" The question came the moment Ryssa fully sat down on the bench.

"It's Ryssa, your Grace." Just then, the servant came back from the kitchens with her food and placed it before Ryssa. "Thank you," she told the old man with a small smile to what he simply nodded and went back to his duties.

"And tell me, Ryssa, how old are you?"

The question took Ryssa by surprise but she politely answered it, nonetheless. "I'm seventeen, your Grace."

A sly smile spread on the Queen's beautiful face. "Really now? Seventeen? And do you have a betrothed or a suitor? A girl as pretty as you must have men falling on her every whim."

Ryssa shook her head. "No, your Grace, I don't. I have no betrothed od sweetheart. I have no interest in marriage."

The Queen seemed like she was going to say more but was interrupted by her youngest, Prince Tommen. "Do you have any news of Bran, Uncle?" he asked Tyrion who was sat at Ryssa's left, the Kingslayer to her right.

"I stopped by the sickroom last night," Tyrion announced. "There was no change. The maester thought that a hopeful sign."

"I don't want Brandon to die," Tommen said timorously. He was such a sweet boy and his words brought a small gentle smile on Ryssa's face as she looked at the young boy. He was about the same age as Baessrad and reminded her much of her young brother with his chubby cheeks. Tommen was nothing like his older brother and Ryssa found that to be a good thing.

"Lord Eddard had a brother named Brandon," Jaime mused. "One of the hostages murdered by the Targaryan. It seems to be an unlucky name."

"Oh, not so unlucky as all that, surely," Tyrion said. The servant brought his plate and he ripped a piece of his black bread. The servant also put some bread in front of Ryssa as well as her water. She nodded her thanks to the servant.

The Queen studied her smaller brother. "What do you mean?"

Tyrion gave his sister a crooked smile. "Only that Tommen may get his wish. The maester thinks the boy may yet live." He took a sip of his beer as Ryssa took a sip of her water to hide the smile that had etched itself onto her face at the little lord's words.

Myrcella gave a happy gasp, and Tommen smiled nervously, but Ryssa's dark eyes were trained on the Queen. There was something odd about her demeanour concerning Bran. The glance that passed between the Queen and the Kingslayer lasted no more than a second, but it was long enough for Ryssa to spot it. Then the Queen dropped her gaze to her plate. "That is no mercy. These northern gods are cruel to let the child linger in such pain."

"But he is not in pain, your Grace," Ryssa spoke up. "The maester said that the fall had broken his back and shattered his legs. With such injuries, he should be feeling nothing bellow his waist and, if he should wake, he would never walk again." Small tears filled her eyes as she spoke but she let them not be seen. Ryssa Manalis never cries, she reminded herself. It was hard for her to speak about Bran at this moment but she did for she felt she had to defend her religion. She would let no one talk badly of the Old Gods, they had watched over her and her family since Adndan Snow was awarded the tittle of 'Lord' and became the first 'Lord Manalis' almost seven hundred years ago.

"And what were the maester's words about the boy's survival?" the Kingslayer directed his question at his brother who took a bite of his bacon and chewed it for a few seconds in thought before replying.

"He thinks that if the boy were going to die, he would have done so already. It has been four days with no change."

Had it truly been only that long? Ryssa wondered. It felt like Bran had fallen ages ago and not oly four short days prior.

"Will Bran get better, Uncle?" Princess Myrcella asked. The soft-spoken girl had all her mother's beauty, it seemed, and none of the coldness in her heart that practically oozed from the Queen's cold green eyes.

"Like Lady Ryssa said, little one, his back is broken and his legs are shattered from the fall," Tyrion explained to her. "They keep him alive with honey and water, or he would starve to death. Perhaps, if he wakes, he will be able to eat real food, but he will never walk again."

If he wakes," Cersei repeated. "Is that likely?"

"The gods alone know," Tyrion told her. "The maester only hopes." He chewed some more bread. "I would swear that wolf of his is keeping the boy alive. The creature is outside his window day and night, howling. Every time they chase it away, it returns. The maester said they closed the window once, to shut out the noise, and Bran seemed to weaken. When they opened it again, his heart beat stronger."

The Queen shuddered at the mention of Bran's direwolf, the little ochre furred pup still nameless. "There is something unnatural about those animals," she said. "They are dangerous. I will not have any of them coming South with us."

Jaime said, "You'll have a hard time stopping them, sister. They follow those girls everywhere."

Ryssa nodded at the golden haired man's words. "It is true, your Grace. Direwolves are very fond of their masters and extremely loyal."

The Queen gave her an assessing look as she sipped from her goblet. "And how would you know so much about those beasts?" The tone she used may have been laced in sugar but the words were like poison.

"There is a pack in the Godswood near Forgehammer," she started. "I practically grew up with them, your Grace, and during my time there they never did anything to intentionally hurt me. More so, one of the direwolf pups I saw being brought into this world saved my life when I had gotten lost north of the Wall. The pack saved our heard of horses from a wild wolf pack. They are gentle animals, your Grace, and would never attack unless they felt threatened or that their master is being threatened."

"And tell me," Jaime said with a look of interest on his face. "How big do they grow?" Ryssa could see him send a small pointed look at his sister, as if telling her to pay close attention to what Ryssa just said.

"Some grow bigger, some grow smaller. But they usually grow to the size of a horse. After all, the legends say that the Winter Kings used to ride them into battle," she said with a small shrug like it did not really matter and was a common known thing.

"Hm, I hear that you Manalis' have beautiful singing voices," said the Queen. "Is that, by any chance, true?"

"I would not say that I, myself, have a beautiful voice. But my mother and my sisters truly do have some of the most beautiful ones I have ever had the opportunity to hear." She looked down to her plate and took a small bite of her eggs and bacon before washing it all down with water. She still had about a quarter of the original amount on her plate.

"And why would you say that?" the Queen insisted.

Ryssa bit her lower lip. "My voice is too raspy to be considered beautiful. Unique, maybe, but not beautiful."

"Would you sing for us, now?" said Myrcella.

The Queen accepted. "Yes, that way we, ourselves, can see if you truly have a beautiful voice."

"Alright then. But I must warn you that with all that has happened, I do not have it in me to sing a happy song, so if you would forgive me for that I shall commence." The Queen waved for her to begin and so she did.

_'Oh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth.  
The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth._

Oh, the smallfolk have stolen my forests, they've stolen my rivers and hills...  
And they've built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills.

In stone halls they burn their great fires, in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.  
Whilst I walk alone in the mountains, with no true companion but tears.

They hunt me with dogs in the daylight, they hunt me with torches by night.  
For these men who are small can never stand tall, whilst giants still walk in the light.

Oh, I am the last of the giants, so learn well the words of my song.  
For when I am gone the singing will fade, and the silence shall last long and long.'

...

Ryssa was making her way to the library in search for maester Luwin with haste. She had remembered something that might help in waking Bran up. The poor had still not woken up and it killed Ryssa inside, every time she passed the door to his room and saw Lady Catelyn sitting at her son's bedside. Finally, after almost the entire day of search for the grey man, she found him hunched over a book of herbs.

"Maester Luwin?" she called to the old man. He looked up from his reading to her and smiled.

"Ah,Ryssa, what brings you to me, child?" he asked in a gentle voice.

"I believe I have some information that could help wake Bran up," she said.

The maester's eyes grew to the size of plates. "You do?" She nodded. "Well, what is it, child?"

"I remember reading about different potions in the library when I was little," she started. "In one of the passages I found a text describing a powerful healing potion that was said to bring men back from the brink of death. The only problem was getting this potion." The measter nodded for her to continue. "The potion, itself, was called 'Tears of Fire' or 'Drops of Sun' in other places and the main ingredient of this potion was Phoenix tears. The tears, themselves, are extremely powerful and can heal deep wounds and neutralize almost all poisons known to man, but, when mixed with the other ingredients needed their potency becomes stronger and they are able to heal just about anything."

"That is splendid, my dear," maester Luwin told her. "But we only have one little problem; where are we going to get Phoenix tears from?"

Ryssa smiled and pulled a small vial filled with thick golden fluid. "Already one step ahead of you, maester Luwin. You see, my father sent me an egg when my siblings came to visit not so long ago and it hatched. The egg contained a baby Phoenix, Aidan. Phoenixes grow very quickly and right now, she is in her adolescent age where her tears are strong but not as powerful as they would be were she completely grown up. Since we don't have much time on our hands, I had managed to get her to fill this vial for me. As I am leaving for King's Landing, this will be the only amount of tears I can give you, so be careful with them. Mix one drop with the honey you give Bran every day and it should help him wake up," she hurriedly said before thrusting the vial in the old man's hands and wordlessly running back to her room to finish packing.

...

Aidan was perched and waiting for her at the foot of her bed. The flame coloured bird's intelligent eyes the colour of molten gold felt like they were looking straight into her soul. By now, Aidan was as big as an eagle and could no longer sit perched on Ryssa's shoulder despite still weighing no more than a feather. She was simply too big.

Ryssa was greeted with one of Aidan's melodious coos as she re-entered her room, her dresses still spread all over her bed.

The problem was in finding clothes that were light enough so she would not get to hot from the heat of the South and 'melt'. Almost all her dresses were made to withstand the biting cold of the North and Ryssa was certain that she would be cooking in them by the time they came to the Neck.

Sighing to herself, she decided to pack the lightest northern dresses she had and even found some that would probably earn her some looks in the capitol. Those were the only dresses she was certain not to die out of heat in. She packed some light shirts and breeches as well as her black flats and her hunting boots. Ryssa even packed some leather clothing that she had hastily made herself. It was amazing that all her belongings would fit in one small trunk. Everything she would possibly need immediately would be packed in her saddle bags and the ever-present bedroll would be securely strapped to Wynter's saddle.

There was no way on this Earth that she would get stuffed in a small wheel house with the Queen and her children. Props to them for making it through the month-long ride in that stuffy thing but Ryssa would rather run in the Haunted Forest completely naked than sit in there. She would be riding with the men and that was final. She would not let anyone tell her what to do. If they did, she would apologise to Lord Stark and ride back to Winterfell.


End file.
